


A Thousand Steps to Home

by dreabean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam gets blinded on a relatively routine hunt, they don’t realize that someone, something, much more terrible is behind it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Steps to Home

A Thousand Steps to Home

 

*

When Sam hit the floor, Dean thought he was dead. Blood leaked out of a gash hidden by his hair, oozing sluggishly over his forehead, painting over his eyes. Dean threw himself against the Vampires that held him, telling himself that head wounds always bled more and looked worse than they actually were.

He started shouting Sam’s name, but Sam wasn’t moving. He couldn’t even tell if Sam was breathing. They had worked too hard to fix what they had for Sam to die now.

*

Sam didn’t hear when Dean shouted his name. He had less than half a moment to realize that he was completely boned before everything went pitch dark. He could almost hear Dean screaming something, obscenities mixed with his name, but it all sounded like it was through water.

He could barely feel it when his knees hit the ground, the screaming he was hearing trailed off into a high pitched whine, until even that faded into silence. He laid there, his face in what felt like dirt, unable to move, hear or see.

Then even what little awareness Sam had left faded completely and then he knew nothing more.

When he came to again, he could feel rough sheets around him, and his back was bare against them. Hospital gown, it must be, because his front half was covered in what should be passing for cotton. There was an IV in his arm, the muscles screaming in protest when he jerked his hands up to his bandaged eyes. Everything was dark and everything was silent and he knew that something was very, very wrong.

Someone took his hand, calloused, broad, Dean. He tried to say his brother’s name, could feel his throat vibrate with the attempt, but couldn’t hear himself speak. He felt fingers brush his temple, light, warm, and it was probably Cas. He didn’t trust muscle memory to not mangle his name, so he settled for turning into the touch.

The hand Dean was holding was moving, propelled along until the backs of his fingers touched warm skin. Dean let go and Sam let his hand stay, feeling along his brother until he figured out he was touching Dean’s throat. He laid his palm over the expanse and felt the motion of his brother speaking. He heard nothing.

Slowly, knowing the test he just failed weighed on his brother, he shook his head. Blind, though currently that was just the bandages, and deaf, he wasn’t a hunter anymore. With that sobering thought, Sam let himself sink back under, merging darkness with something more.

He could only imagine how Bobby felt, and the thought wasn’t pretty. Unconsciousness at least silenced his thoughts.

They were very loud in his otherwise silent world.

*

“What’s wrong with him, Doc?” Dean asked pensively, watching his brother fall back into unconsciousness. “He can’t see, he can’t hear either, he tried...he couldn’t even say my name.”

Doctor Sinclair, a balding man with bright blue eyes frowned expressively down into his chart. “These numbers are within the range of a currently healthy individual, but son, your brother has been extremely ill for a very long time. Sometimes these things hide in symptoms atypical of the disease but the cancer that was in your brother’s brain probably ate away at his ability to see and hear correctly long before you would have noticed anything.”

“Symptoms?” Castiel interrupted, seeing the flinch in Dean’s eyes. “What kind of symptoms, Doctor Sinclair?”

“Judging by the severity of the tumor we removed, I’d say... splitting migraines, severe light sensitivity, irritability, mood swings of extreme proportions,” the doctor ticked off each symptom with ruthless efficiency. “And, I would imagine, some personality changes that would seem out of character for the man you knew before. Poor decision making, or a lack of coping skills. Degradation of the prefrontal cortex.”

Cas and Dean exchanged a look. “Yeah, that’s...that sounds about right,” Dean whispered hoarsely. “What about...the eyesight or the hearing.”

Sinclair breathed out slowly, loud enough to be noticed and it told Dean nothing good. “His hearing may come back in time. The loss is probably a side effect of the beam hitting him - and the reason for your visit. But the eye sight? I can’t give you a proper diagnosis, Mr. Charon, because I’ve never seen anything like this. His chances are 100 percent...or zero.”

Dean swore harshly and wheeled away to look out the window. “Is there anything we can do?” Castiel asked, taking over the questioning. “Specialists, or therapists?”

“Well,” Sinclair said, flipping over another piece of paper, “we’ll run him through another CT Scan, and see how his eardrums fared in the accident. If they’re intact, we can go in for surgery and put in sensitive tubes that work like the natural tubes in his ear. It’ll greatly increase his chances for his hearing to be returned. It’s called a ‘cochlear implant’.”

“Good. Do it.” Dean turned back away from the window. “My brother can’t live like this.” Not like this and be a hunter, what was what he didn’t say, but Castiel could hear it.

Sinclair nodded. “The CT scan will wait until tomorrow, at least until some of the radiation from the surgery clears his system.” He gave Dean a brief smile. “I don’t know what you two were doing that caused that head injury of his, but it likely saved his life.”

Dean flinched again, remembering the expression on Sam’s face before the vampire got the drop on him, slamming his head into the pole holding up the ceiling. Sam had fallen like his strings were cut, he didn’t respond, didn’t even move and for one terrified moment, Dean thought that he was dead.

But he was breathing shallowly and responded by flinching to Dean’s light face slap. No matter how loud Dean shouted his name and Cas used up whatever was left of his angel mojo to pop them into the alleyway by a local hospital.

Dean was practically choking on his anxiety, and Cas was human enough now to realize how close they came to losing Sam from something entirely mundane.

A brain tumor, malignant for what they estimated was four years, probably five. About the time the visions started, about the time he started using his powers.

Azazel hadn’t told them about the expiration date.

“But,” Sinclair interrupted Dean’s musings, “we were able to remove the whole tumor, and odds of a relapse are very low, almost infinitesimal.”

Assuming Sam never used his powers again, at least. “Thank you, Doctor Sinclair,” Cas intoned for Dean who was too busy staring at Sam to be polite. He’d done his part. The rest was up to Sam.

*

Sam floated in and out of consciousness for an indeterminate amount of time, feeling warm and cradled by something he couldn’t see. The darkness was infinite, all encompassing, and blacker than any night. He could no longer tell the difference between unconsciousness and being awake.

Until through the thready feeling of his heartbeat, he could hear the heart monitor beeping in a slow and steady counterpoint. He concentrated on that, listening past the sound to the rustle of clothes somewhere to his left. There was a rhythmic squeak, someone with rubber shoes was walking by. “Mr. Charon?” a female voice said. “I just need to check your brother’s vitals, and then I’ll get out of your way.”

Charon? That must be the name they were using this time around. Sam almost could appreciate the irony. There were still bandages over his eyes. “Dean,” he said, and he could hear the correctness this time. He could hear the nurse and his brother gasp in tandem.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, and Sam could hear the hope in his voice. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching out blindly for his brother’s, “Yeah Dean, I can hear you.”

*

The door to his room opened and Sam turned his face towards the sound. They had taken the bandages off earlier that day, giving him the dismal prognosis that he would likely never see again. His hearing however, was almost painfully acute, as Dean and Cas had blushingly found out the day before. (Sam had to loudly remind them that just because he was blind didn’t mean he couldn’t hear, and oh-by-the-way, I’m glad you got your acts together, now stop kissing where I can hear you.)

“Good afternoon, Sam,” his nurse said. Her name was Debbie, she had four kids and none of them were hers. He liked her, she was strong and sassy and had no trouble throwing down with Dean. “How do you feel today?”

“Like I’m blind,” he said, but he was smiling. “And I think I like these hearing tubes.”

She laughed and it resonated inside his head for a second. “I heard you got the one up on your brother and his boyfriend.”

When he grinned he could feel the stretch of the stitches at the back of his head. They’d had to cut his hair when they went in for emergency surgery two weeks ago. (His hair hadn’t been this short since high school.) “Yeah, my hearing is much better than it was.”

Debbie grinned back despite knowing he couldn’t see her. His eyes were open but the hazel was dull, muted, the pupils fixed points that didn’t change no matter the light source. She waved a hand in front of his face just as she did every time she went in to get his vitals. “Nothing huh?” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Sam responded in kind. “Though I do like your perfume this week. Keep with it.”

She was startled into another laugh. “Micah in Pharmacy hasn’t noticed so drop him a hint would you?” she teased, touching the top of Sam’s head. “Lunch should be in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll let him know,” Sam said dryly. “Thanks.”

When she closed the door softly behind her, he was left in silent darkness again. The easy smile faded from his eyes and he lay back, closing his useless eyes. He lost track of time, which was now so easy to do, and then the door opened again. Their shoes didn’t squeak so whoever it was, it wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. Dean and Cas announced their presence, loudly, and anyone else was identifiable by their smell. “Hey Sam,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “Heard you were hard up, thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

He turned his head towards the voice, and heard a gasp of someone who clearly hadn’t been told he was blind. “Hi,” he said quietly, tensing. He could hear the heart monitor speed up somewhere to his left. “Yes. I’m blind. Nothing doing to fix it either,” he added, trying to feel out the person beside him.

There was an almost tangible pause in the room and Sam sighed, closing his eyes. “Becky thought I should come and...offer some sort of divine passing, but I’ve got nothing. The dreams...they didn’t tell me you were blind.”

Ah. That explained it. “Chuck,” Sam murmured. “I’m sure none of your avid readers want to read about one of your heroes getting blinded. Leave this part out.”

“Sam,” there was a broken quality to Chuck’s voice, almost an aching tenderness, and Sam started when he felt the writers hand fall on his forehead. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, “it’s not like you caused this to happen.”

There was a telling pause and Sam wondered for a minute what was going on inside Chuck’s head. “I’m no good at this, Sam,” Chuck muttered quietly. “Big things I can do, but I think I lost the ability to fix the small stuff.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Dude,” he said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Chuck yanked his hand away from Sam. “Nothing. Sorry.” Sam could hear him sit down in the chair beside him. Dean must be getting food, or finally sleeping. “So uh...how do you feel?”

Sam swallowed once. “Like a blind hunter, Chuck.” He made a noise and suddenly the door flung itself open and a whirlwind barreled through. “Hi Becky,” he said when the doors slammed shut.

She squealed. “How did you know it was me?” She immediately plopped down on the side of Sam’s bed, leaning over and using his hip as a pillow for her head.

“Um, the noise gave it away,” he said, amused. As unorthodox as Becky was, he was glad she was always so expressive with her touch. Other than the original hand hold, Dean very rarely touched Sam, and Cas touched him even less. “How are you, Becky?”

“Oh I’m fine,” she said loudly. He hid a wince and she turned her head to face Chuck, as her voice got a little muffled. “Chuck and I drove like maniacs to get here, where’s Dean?”

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Somewhere, I guess. I haven’t seen him.”

Apparently it was too early for bad blind jokes, because Chuck cleared his throat and Becky’s indrawn breath was a little sharp. “Sam,” she murmured.

“Hey, look guys, it’s fine. I’ll - I’ll deal, okay?” He could feel Becky nod against his leg where she’d left her head. “I’m not really...it’s not like this is the end of the world.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wished they hadn’t. “Well,” he said quietly. “I’m damaged goods now anyway. Lucifer wouldn’t want a damaged host, right?”

She reached out and smoothed a hand over his cheek, carding her fingers through his hair. Sam smiled a little and leaned into the touch. Once she had started dating Chuck, her awkward obsession over them had dimmed. And she’d finally stopped drilling him on physical details, because really, no. Just no.

“A-Actually, Sam. Lucifer might use this against you,” Chuck added hesitantly from the chair. “He could...could probably heal you, offer it to you like a reward for saying yes.”

Sam’s heart froze in his chest. No. His hands were trembling and he let them drop, one on the bed beside him, the other on top of Becky’s head. He felt himself pale, the rush of blood away from his face, and the heart monitor he was still connected to sped up minutely.

Of course, that’s when Dean walked in. His brother took one look at Sam’s face and immediately knew something was wrong. “Sam?” he asked sharply.

“I’m okay,” was the quiet answer. “Just...we’re being realistic.”

There was a long pause and Sam longed to be able to read the expression on his brother’s face. Finally Dean sighed and his shirt rustled like he was handing stuff out. “I snuck you in coffee,” he said. Dean’s calloused hands took Sam’s and lifted them to a hot cup. The warmth trickled in through his fingers and Sam cradled it for a second before drinking it. Carmel latte macchiato just like he usually ordered. “And I lost some serious man points getting it for you too, you big girl,” Dean snapped, right on cue.

Sam smiled. “Thanks Dean,” he murmured into his cup. He lapsed into silence and let the conversation of Chuck and Dean wash over him. He could feel Becky’s eyes on him, and allowed his eyes to close as she rubbed the side of her thumb over his hip. The mellowness of the atmosphere lulled him to sleep, and then he could see.

*

Lucifer was wearing an apron. It had frills, and was pink - and wasn’t really what Sam wanted to see. His Vessel was falling apart. There were purple-blue bruises around each of his joints, both wrists, his jaw all looked as though he’d been beaten with a meat tenderizer. There were large boils splitting the skin of his face and some were oozing yellowish pus down the side of his neck. “Oh Sam,” Lucifer murmured, his entire being softening in what looked like compassion. “Oh Sam, your beautiful eyes. I am so, so sorry.”

Sam turned away and closed his eyes, trying to block out the image and the words, letting the now familiar darkness cloak him. “Is this the part where you offer me my sight back?” he asked tiredly.

“No,” Lucifer said gently. “No, when you find a cure, and I’m certain that you will, you’ll want to do it on your own.” Sam left his eyes closed, but turned his head towards the Morningstar. “I have to admit Samuel, this is something I didn’t see coming.”

“Yeah well, me either,” Sam snapped. “So if you’re not here to offer me my eyesight back, then go away.” He settled back into the chair and turned his face away.

“I needed to apologize, Sam. When Azazel began his plan of attack on you and others like you, I never imagined that it would cause such pain.”

Sam didn’t respond, he just pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and waited to wake up.

When he did finally, it was to more darkness. He didn’t open his eyes, straining his ears for any tell-tale signs that would give away a person. At first there was nothing, but then, just barely, he could hear someone breathing.

It was slow, slower than a normal human. Castiel. He’d gotten used to his breathing patterns over the last few months, the angel tended to guard Dean’s dreams, hiding Hell from him. “Cas,” he murmured. He smiled briefly when he felt a warm hand brush the hair of his face. “Chuck was right,” he said, “it was one of the first things Lucifer mentioned.” The hand brushed over his closed eyes. “I said no.”

The hand dipped down to touch the corner of his mouth. “Cas?” When the too warm fingers slid down his jaw and feathered over his neck he opened his eyes on reflex.

There was nothing, just inky blackness. The fingers pressed against the pulse point. “Cas...are you...say something.”

The chair rustled and Castiel’s weight transferred to the bed. A warm, lightly stubbled cheek pressed against his. “If I could heal you, I would,” a voice, not Castiel’s but equally as familiar, whispered.

Sam froze. “Who...?”

The door opened but Sam could just barely hear the sound of displaced air of an Angel disappearing. If it wasn’t Castiel, then it must have been...

Gabriel.

“Hey Sam,” Dean said, bringing the smell of Chinese takeout with him. “Sam. You okay?”

Sam immediately closed his eyes. Dean didn’t like staring into his dead, unhappy eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Then I come bearing gifts,” he announced, settling on the edge of the bed. “Chinese and some sunglasses.”

Sam’s lip curled. “They better not be those stupid bug glasses that teenage girls wear, you jerk,” he said.

Dean snorted a laugh. “Bitch, you’d be so lucky.” He felt Dean lean forward and brush his hair away from his face. “Can I?” Sam nodded and he felt glasses slip onto his face. He brought his hands up to feel around them, they were small, oval sized, and had no rims. “They’ve got blue-black-grey, I don’t know something like that, as a color. So it makes you look...” Dean trailed off. “Like, you’re sun phobic.”

Sam grinned, liking the way they settled on his face. “Thanks, man.” He held out his hands, crooking his fingers towards where he could smell the food. “Gimme ”

It wasn’t until Dean had filled the plate and handed him a fork that he realized how tricky eating could be when you couldn’t see what you were doing. “Sam,” Dean murmured.

“No, I’ll do it.” He set his jaw, figured out which side the fork was turned, and lowered it slowly to the plate. Slowly, so slowly, he figured out what was on the plate, eating even slower, but managed it with minimal mess.

“So dude,” Dean said after the plates had been moved onto the floor. “This kind of sucks.”

His smile fading, Sam looked away, feeling the glasses slide a little on his nose. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It really kind of does. I guess we should make the most of it, right? You can drop me off at Bobby’s...we can find programs to read websites for me...I can research, you can still hunt. I mean, you have Cas...”

Dean’s hand covered his. “Sam. Stop.”

Sam stilled, feeling his eyes burn. “Dean, can you just...not pretend that I can bounce back from this?” He pulled his hand away from his brothers to rub at his forehead behind the sunglasses. “I’m sorry...I...” he shook his head. “God, at least I’m not deaf too,” he whispered.

“Sam...” Dean said. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

He closed his eyes behind the glasses. “Maybe.”

*

When Sam woke up again, he could hear Dean talking. There were no responses, so Sam figured he was on the phone. “Look, I can’t get up to see the place right now. I’m...” he trailed off and waited for whoever it was to respond. “Okay. Look, call Bobby Singer. He can give you all the necessary information.”

Necessary information?

Sam opened his eyes, no longer disappointed when the darkness didn’t change. “Yeah, Robert Singer. I put him down on my list of references.”

List of references?

“Amazing, thank you. Look, as soon as my brother is out of hospital, we’ll be moving in.”

Moving in?

Dean must have looked towards him because suddenly the conversation got much quieter. “Thanks, man,” he muttered into the cell phone. Sam could hear the snap of the phone closing. “Sammy, you awake?”

“Who was on the phone?”

He could hear Dean sigh, and the bed dipped down when he sat. “You can’t hunt like this Sammy,” his brother said quietly. “And we’ll look for every cure possible but until then, we need...a home base.” Sam stilled. “I know that...for years you wanted a place of our own, so now...” A shift told Sam that Dean had shrugged. “Now we have one.”

Something tightened in Sam’s chest, and he was glad for the sunglasses and hair that covered the expression he could feel cross his face. “Dean,” he murmured. “Where? How?”

“It’s, in um...well, it’s near Bobby’s,” he said. “Just outside of Sioux Falls. Nice place, he’s been there, checked it out for us.” There was more movement but Sam couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly. “Good hospital near there too.”

Sam sighed loudly, his lips quirking up in a smile. “You’re going to take care of me until we die of old age, aren’t you?” he asked, mostly rhetorical.

“Yup,” Dean answered, matter-of-fact. “Until I die, because damn it Sam, I am so dying first.” Sam grinned and reached out blindly for his brother. Dean caught his hand before it hung in space for too long, and pulled him into a rough hug. Hugs between them had usually been reserved for moments of life and death, or great swells of emotion. This had nothing to do with either of those - it was pure comfort.

“So, um...” Sam murmured. “I can’t be sure...you know, with the whole being blind thing. But I think Gabriel was here, earlier. Just before you showed up.”

He could feel Dean’s displeasure through the hug. “Gabriel?” he repeated, pulling back just enough that Sam could feel his breath on his face. “Why the hell would that asshole come here?”

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know,” he answered. “He said something like, wishing he could heal me if he could.”

Dean’s finger, or more accurately his thumb judging by the callouses on it, feathered over his cheek. “Could he?”

“He didn’t make it sound like it.”

His brother fell away and Sam leaned back against the pillow. “Well what the fuck good is he then?” But Sam could hear the disappointment. “Cas...he doesn’t have enough mojo,” Dean murmured quietly.

“Yeah and about that,” Sam said, letting a lascivious grin pull his lips up. “When are you going to tell me when that happened?”

Dean snorted and very primly replied, “never.”

So Sam pulled out the big guns. He pouted, settling down into the covers and closing his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Fine,” he sighed out, and when Dean didn’t get the hint right away, he sighed again, sadly.

“Oh for, really Sammy?” Dean bit out, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is your reaction?”

Briefly Sam wondered if it was still too early for blind jokes and just settled for being honest. “Well,” he said carefully. “It’s not like anyone is going to want a washed up, old, blind hunter in their lives, so I have to live vicariously through yours.”

Dean made a noise, a cross between a sharp inhale and what sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Sammy...” he murmured. Sam didn’t answer, but settled more firmly into his pillows. “It happened right before...your accident.” Sam’s eyes snapped open even though he couldn’t see through them, it was still reflex. “Cas was...it just happened.”

“Dude,” Sam said. “You suck at retelling.”

Even though Sam couldn’t see the face, he knew it was there. “Bitch,” Dean snapped, biffing him in the head with a spare pillow. There was no heat in it, and Sam couldn’t help but grin.

“Jerk,” he shot back, and felt the world settle in a little better around him.

*

When Sam woke up on the seventh day of his stay at the hospital, he immediately knew that someone was in the room with him. “Gabriel?” he asked hesitantly, because anyone else would have announced their presence. (Dean had taken to hitting him with a pillow to wake him up, Castiel tended to take his hand the minute his eyes opened and Becky would just molest him.)

The breathing got a little sharper, as though he was surprised that Sam would call him out. “It’s all right if you don’t want to say anything,” Sam said after a second of silence. “I know you can’t heal me.” He fumbled for the sunglasses that had been resting on the bedside table. He overreached and they skittered away until a warm hand pressed them into his grip. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence again and Sam finally sighed. “Why are you here, Gabriel?”

Another sharp breath. “How’d you know it was me?”

Sam allowed himself a small smile. “I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out who is sitting with me. Dean can’t stop touching me, and Cas breathes slower...so do you. Only he says my name when I open my eyes.” He closed them, a new habit. “I don’t know how many Angels would be sitting at my bedside.”

Sam could hear the smirk. “You may have a point there, Sasquatch.” There was a rustle, and an overly warm hand took his. Gabriel’s fingers traced over the veins and knuckles of Sam’s free hand. “I’ve kept an eye on you Winchester’s for years. I missed this.” Gabriel’s other hand brushed over Sam’s temple. “I’m...sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

Sam wished he could see the look on his face. “No, perhaps not.” Gabriel slipped his hand up the slope of Sam’s wrist. He trailed his fingers over the cool skin there, and Sam breathed in a little sharply. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts a little,” Sam answered, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. There were still tender places where the stitches were, and his hair was far shorter than he was comfortable with it being. “It’s just…hard to get used to.”

Gabriel’s hand continued its slow ascent up from Sam’s wrist to slip hot fingers over the inside of his elbow. “I am sorry,” he murmured, pulling Sam’s hand into his own lap. Sam started when he felt warm lips pressed against his knuckles.

“Gabriel...what are you doing?” he murmured. He could feel the archangel’s smile against his palm, as he spread kisses over Sam’s cool skin.

“Trying to make you feel better.” The words were muffled against Sam’s wrist, and Sam sighed and let Gabriel do as he wished. “You didn’t deserve this, kiddo.”

The door flew open and Sam jerked his hand back to the sound of displaced air rushing around him. “He was here again, wasn’t he?” Dean asked, resigned, closing the door a little more quietly.

Sam rubbed his wrist absently. “Yeah.” Dean took his hand when he sat and Sam smiled inwardly. “When do I get out of here?”

Dean grimaced. “The doctor says they want to do a few more tests on your eyes before we can get you out of here. Other than the concussion, which by the way, he says you’ve had way too many of in your short lifetime, and the uh, ‘cochlear implants’, you’re in mostly perfect health.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed the tight skin around his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “What do they think is causing the blindness?”

“Originally,” Dean began and Sam could immediately tell that he was mostly quoting the doctor, “they believed it was the brain tumor that caused damage to your, opictal? Oedipal? Uh...”

“Occipital?”

“Yeah that thing, lobe. But after your first MRI, there was no lasting damage sustained from the legions there.” Sam twisted his wrist in a gesture for Dean to continue. “So they want to see if maybe your retina was detached from the optic nerve, which is actually fixable with surgery, so that’s what they’re hopeful for. Then there’s cataracts or glaucoma and that’s probably way out of proportion for what actually happened to you. Apparently diabetes is also a leading cause of blindness but there’s no history in our family. Fake or not.” Dean was clearly grinning. “I did some research while you were sleeping.”

“Wonders never ceasing,” Sam teased him. He didn’t see the swat that Dean aimed at him, but he heard the rustle and dodged.

There was a gasp, almost suppressed, like Dean hadn’t wanted him to hear. Unfortunately for him, Sam could hear pretty much everything. “That...was very Ben Affleck,” Dean said after a moment. Sam’s brow furrowed, trying to find the bad pop culture reference. “Daredevil,” he added when Sam didn’t get it.

“Oh.” Sam was quiet for a second before he pushed his sunglasses up his nose in a short movement. “So,” he said, “when do I get out of here?” There was a surprising loudly noise as an answer, but Dean didn’t even flinch. “Cas?” Sam asked, because there was no one else it could have been and wings were very loud when you couldn’t see.

There was a smile in Castiel’s voice when he answered Sam. “Yes, Sam. How did you know I appeared?”

“I can hear you. It’s like you suck all the air out of the room.” He turned his head into Castiel’s hand when he reached out and touched Sam’s forehead.

“In a few days, probably two, Sam,” Dean said, answering his question. “We’ve got a house all set up in Black Hills, South Dakota. Cost us an arm and a leg, too.”

Sam rolled his useless eyes and settled back against the bed. Things were going to be alright.

They had to be.

*

Her name was Meryn Jackson and she was a psychic which explained why Dean got the house so fast. The house itself was amazing, Sam could already tell. It creaked nicely when he walked in, and Dean explained that it was a white three story. Sam’s bedroom would be on the first floor, with a connecting bathroom.

He was sitting on the couch, leather, mostly new but used, Sam could tell, when the door flew open and he immediately thought Becky was in the room with him. “Hi Becky,” he said hoping to at least stem a flow of chatter from her.

The laugh that answered him was unfamiliar and Sam felt himself tensing. “You must be Sam,” the woman said. “I’m Meryn Jackson, your realtor.”

Sam could feel himself flushing. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “You just...reminded me of Becky.”

He didn’t know why, but he could tell she was smiling. “Yes,” she said as though she already knew that. “Becky, dating Chuck. She’s loud and she likes to read slash, especially concerning you.”

Sam made a pained face. “I see she already talked to you.”  
“Not at all,” Meryn answers. “Clearly Dean conveniently didn’t mention the part where I’m a psychic.” Sam couldn’t help it. His mouth dropped open. “Bobby Singer saved my life a few years back, so I owed him. Getting you this place for cheap wasn’t easy but when you get everything downloaded from someone else’s brain to yours, things are a little simpler.”

Sam was still gaping when she stopped talking and finally managed to piece together an extremely lame: “oh” as a response over her laughter. “Sorry, just...psychic’s never get along well with us.”

Her laughter stopped like it had never started. “You’re talking about Pamela. And Missouri.” He nodded once and was a little surprised when weight settled onto the leather couch next to him, even though he hadn’t heard her move. “I steer far away from Angels, Sam.”

He huffed out half a laugh. “I don’t know why that makes me feel better, but it does.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she moved. “Dean’s coming.” He noticed a second later, he could hear the thick clomp of Dean’s boots against the creaky steps on the front porch and grinned. “Did you startle the hell out of him with your psychic-freak-powers?” he asked, leaning in a little.

“Oh yes,” Meryn answered. “But he gave me a standing invite to the house, so I guess it counts for something. Also, Becky and Chuck will be here in two days. And Sam?” She spoke quickly like she didn’t want Dean to hear. “Don’t shut Gabriel out.”

The smile was back in her voice. “How did you...?” he asked reflexively.

“Psychic,” she chimed, and breezed out past Dean with a hello.

He could hear Dean’s confusion before he heard Dean’s voice. “What was that all about?” Dean asked, dropping down onto the couch with him.

“You couldn’t have warned me that our realtor was psychic?” Sam complained mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I thought our pull with any of those people was pretty much out when we got Pamela killed.”

He could feel Dean shrug next to him. “We did, but this one, she doesn’t seem to care. She have any insights for you?”

“She told me not to push Gabriel away.” He said it flatly, deadpan, unwilling to turn his head in Dean’s direction.

His ears picked up Dean’s grumbled mutter, though he clearly wasn’t meant to hear it. “Stupid fucker.”

“Him or me?” Sam asked mildly, savoring the surprised jolt against his arms when Dean started.  
“Him,” Dean answered automatically. “What good is an Archangel if he can’t heal your eyes?”

Sam heard it before Dean saw it, and the answer came from the Archangel in question. “Because someone up there doesn’t want me to, Deano,” Gabriel nee Loki said, rustling wings that Sam could almost feel. “I haven’t been back long, but I do know that there is power behind his blindness.”

A too warm hand curved around Sam’s cheek, under his chin to cup the back of his neck. “Gabriel,” he murmured.

Dean was silent and stiff beside him, Sam could feel the tension radiating from his upper arm where it was pressed against Sam’s shoulder. “How’s Castiel?” Gabriel asked, not moving his hand.

Sam didn’t answer, the question was clearly not met for him. Silence stretched until it was almost painful, before Dean’s breath whooshed out of him and he spoke grudgingly. “He’s fine.”

Gabriel made a disappointed noise and flopped down next to Sam on the other side of the couch. “You suck at retellings,” he told Dean pointedly.

All Sam could do was laugh.

*

He knew he was sleeping, not just because he was standing in a large field, but that he could also see the sky was the color blue it turned after a thunderstorm. Sam looked around, wincing at the bright sunlight, shielding his eyes. “Too much?” asked Lucifer from somewhere behind him and Sam tensed, but didn’t turn.

“A little,” Sam said shortly, and the sun was suddenly gone, set behind the horizon in a blink, leaving the clearing in deep shadow with silver tips - the full moon bright but subtle overhead.

“Sam, please. Turn and look at me,” Lucifer implored and reluctantly, he swivelled to face the Devil. He still looked awful - worse, even from the last time he had visited Sam’s dreams. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired, even as Sam thought that a Fallen Angel should never look tired. “I don’t look so good, do I?” Lucifer said quietly, playing with the dirty hem of his shirt.

“No,” Sam answered quietly. “Can’t say as you do.”

Lucifer flashed a brief smile that stole years and anguish from his Vessel’s lined face. “It’s just this body,” he explained rubbing one hand over the worst of the boils. “In my true form, I have very few limitations.”  
Sam’s mouth pursed. “You can’t have my body.”

The Devil snorted and shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask for it, not like this, not here, not now. I was speaking of the form my Father gave me.”

Sam frowned, he couldn’t help it. “I thought humans couldn’t see your true forms because our eyes would burn out?”

Lucifer laughed, throwing his whole head back. “Your eyes are already useless, Sam. I could show you in here, if you like.”

It wasn’t a question and Sam couldn’t help the nod. Lucifer flared into light so intense that Sam had to turn his face away. It faded quickly, leaving a pulsing glow the brightness of the sun around the winged form of Lucifer. “Oh my God,” Sam whispered, the words wrenched from him.

Though his vessel’s face was hidden by light and large black feathered wings, Sam could tell that Lucifer was smiling. “Not quite,” he answered with a musical chuckle. “But he did name me Light Bringer for a reason, my Host.”

The light came to Sam and folded him into a warm embrace, settling heat and feathers around him like they belonged together. “How...?” Sam tried to ask, feeling tears running down his face. “How...?”

“Let me show you wonders, my Host,” Lucifer whispered, lips brushing Sam’s ear. “I can show you the things you cannot see so you do not forget them. Sunsets, sunrises, the aurora borealis, beauty beyond measure and words. Let me show you. Just say yes.”

The light was too bright, the heat was too warm and Sam whimpered as he embraced it. “Yes,” he sobbed, desperate. “Yes.”

If Lucifer’s answering smile was tinged with triumph, the light was too bright to see it.

*  
There was a warm body in his bed.

Sam tightened his grip on whoever was spooned up beside him and found skin too hot to be human under his fingertips. “Gabriel,” he said warningly, his voice sleep rough and confused. “What are you doing here?”

“You were crying in your sleep. Dean didn’t hear you.” The answer was short and sweet and suddenly Sam’s arms are empty.

“So you decided to crawl into bed with me?” Sam asked skeptically, realizing his eyes hurt, like he’s been looking at light too bright.  
Gabriel was quiet for a second. “It got you to stop crying,” he said, a little sadly. “And you’re warm.”

“You’re warmer,” Sam felt compelled to point out. The bed shifted a little and Sam realized that Gabriel had sat at the end of it. “Our realtor is a psychic,” he announced to cover the awkward silence. Gabriel said nothing but Sam could feel him against his leg. “She told me not to push you away.”

“Wh–really?” His shock was audible and Sam couldn’t help but smile even after the dreams.

Sam nodded and reached for his glasses, settling them on his nose. “Uh huh, oddly enough.” He nudged Gabriel’s hip with his knee. “So. You want to stay for breakfast?”

Gabriel’s hesitance was surprisingly wounding, but Sam waited him out, patient for the gears to stop turning in the Archangel’s head. “Yeah,” Gabriel said finally. “Sure.”

Sam slipped out of bed, wavering slightly once he got to his feet. Gabriel was right there though, gripping his elbow and holding him steady. “Thanks,” Sam said shortly.

“How many steps, Sam?” Gabriel asked quietly.

He pulled in a deep breath. “Six, to the dresser.” Gabriel counted with him as he walked, one hand out stretched to touch the top of the hardwood dresser. “Everything is labeled,” he said slowly. “I’m still learning braille so it’s slow going.”

“You’ve already started learning braille?” Gabriel sounded incredulous. “You’ve been blind for what, a month?”

Sam gave him a dry glance, the expression unfettered by his shut eyes. “I’m blind. Not a moron. I have to learn sometime, right? What use am I to Dean if I can’t even read?”

He could hear Gabriel’s smile. “You’re something else, Gigantor.”

Sam tugged his shirt over his head, feeling with rough, over-sensitive fingers for the drawer with the T-Shirt label.

The bed creaked and Sam figured that Gabriel had sat back down, giving him the space he needed to do it on his own. He found the drawer easily enough, pulling it smoothly open and then reaching in for the packaged clothing items within. Warm colors on the left, cool colors on the right, and black in the middle. He felt around until he found the color he wanted, green, and pulled out the one labeled ‘button-down’. He shrugged it on over the white a-tank he wore to bed, feeling for the small buttons.

“Need a hand?” Gabriel offered unobtrusively. “I could button it for you?”

Sam paused. He had gotten the buttons wrong the day before, and Castiel had been the one to fix them for him; he was never going to live down that shame. “Yes please,” he said quietly, turning to face the Archangel in nothing more than the shirt and his boxer-briefs.

Gabriel’s hands, warm and shaking very slightly were suddenly on his chest, and he slowly did up the small buttons, starting from the bottom to make sure that they came up even. “So,” Gabriel murmured. “How are you going to announce me to the room?”

Sam smiled, warm and genuine. “Here’s the new cook. Move over Dean.”

It surprised a laugh from Gabriel and Sam wished he could see it. “I see how it is, Sasquatch,” he said. “Invite me to breakfast and then chain me to the stove.”

“You can create food with a fingersnap,” Sam pointed out. “Much less time consuming than actually making omelets and hash browns.”

“And I never get them wrong,” Gabriel boasted, finishing up the last button. “Done.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks,” he said and turned back to the dresser, haltingly. He felt along the drawers labels, finding ‘jeans’ relatively easily. He’d always left his pants in the bottom most drawer anyway, and a habit of a lifetime was hard to break. Like the shirts, everything was packaged and color coded, darks on the left and lights on the right. He picked a pair of stone-washed light colored jeans; they’d been on top with the name ‘favorite’ in braille on the label instead of a color.

He had a system now. Things were going to be okay.

*

“Here be the cook,” Sam called to the room in general, even though he could feel Castiel’s presence like a weight in the air. “Move over Dean.” The whole room paused, and Sam pushed Gabriel out in front of him.

He could feel Dean’s concession before Dean even spoke. “Yeah, all right,” Dean muttered. “Work your magic, Trickster.”

There was a familiar snap, and then the aroma of breakfast floated through the air. Sam felt someone come up next to him, not Dean and not the newly familiar Gabriel. Castiel. “Thank you,” he whispered in Sam’s ear.

Castiel was barely an Angel, but Sam had given him back a brother. “Hey bro,” Gabriel said, like he knew what they were talking about. “You started eating yet?”

“I find myself quite partial to Dean’s cooking,” Castiel answered. “So, yes.”

Sam was almost crippled by the longing to be able to look over at Dean and share a look, instead he felt Dean’s gun calloused hand brush over the top of his head and he smiled. They’d make it work.

As soon as Gabriel quietly identified everything on the table and where it was, Sam was able to eat, though much more slowly. Of course, it took longer as Dean kept moving his glass of orange juice - and he never moved it to the same place twice. “Dean ”

“What?” his brother answered innocently, too innocently to be truth.

“I can hear you,” Sam gritted out between his teeth.

“You hear nothing ” Dean shot back. “It’s Cas ”

Sam snorted and turned his head towards the power that emanated from Castiel. He swallowed whatever he had been chewing and said, very primly, “I believe this is the part where I deny you sex.”

Gabriel and Sam burst out laughing, as Dean choked on his eggs. “Cas ” He sputtered. “They don’t need to know anything ”

“Yes we do,” chorused Sam and Gabriel and even though Sam couldn’t see him, he knew that Gabriel had grinned at him.

Sam didn’t understand why he could feel the Angels so much clearer than Dean himself, or Meryn when she came by. There was...something, about Chuck but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He simply knew when Castiel gave him a brief smile, or when Gabriel would appear in a room. Meryn, it always felt like she was reaching out to touch him, even when she was half way across the room going over things with Dean. Bobby, Becky and anyone else coming to the house he had to guess about.

He was right, most of the time.

“Cas, because Dean sucks at retelling things,” he announced once the laughter had died down some, “you should give us all the details.”

He felt Castiel shift very slightly in his seat, and Sam grinned into his orange juice as Dean grumbled under his breath. “I am not sure what to say,” Castiel said. “He is very skilled at kissing, as well as sexual intercourse itself.”

Sam was sure that Cas might have actually said more, but suddenly he could hear the distinctive sound of kissing. “Get a room ” he called over to his brother and his Angel. There was a telltale finger snap, and then he and Gabriel were alone.

As soon as Sam had eaten his fill, which went by much faster without Dean there to steal his orange juice and move it on him, Gabriel clasped his shoulder. “I want to take you somewhere. May I?”

The question was oddly formal and Sam hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” he said. “Get me back before dinner.”

“Am I to cook that too?” Gabriel asked, but Sam could tell he was teasing.

“Only if you want to,” Sam answered, smiling. Gabriel’s hand tightened on Sam’s shoulder and there was another finger snap before the world shifted away around him, and he suddenly found himself in a different place.

He was seated on a very comfortable bed, and the air smelled like flowers. The covers he sat on were velvety, soft and luxurious. “Gabriel?” he called hesitantly, “I’d try and find you, but I don’t know where the door is.”

Just as suddenly as Sam appeared on the bed, Gabriel was by his side. “I can’t heal your eyesight, Sasquatch,” he said, an odd mix of a smile and sadness. “But I can help you hone the rest of your senses.”

“Is this another Daredevil reference?” Sam asked dryly.

Gabriel laughed. “No. Considering we just ate, we’ll leave the taste test for another day,” he said, still grinning. “So, Gigantor, this is a touch test.”

Sam could feel his smile freeze. “Touch test?”

“Don’t worry, Sasquatch. It’s nothing too inappropriate.” Sam got the feeling that Gabriel winked. “I just want you to identify what I’m touching you with, or if I hand you something, what it is.”

“Okay,” Sam murmured. “Do your worst.”

Something lightly touched his cheek, and traced over the high curve of the bone, down the clean line of his jaw to paint a zigzag design over the vein of his jugular. It skipped over the cloth covering his shoulders to swirl down his bicep, over his forearms to circle his wrist with a feather light touch. “Feather,” Sam answered, goose-bumps shivering over his skin.

“What kind?” Gabriel asked, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Crow, probably.”

Delighted, Gabriel laughed again, discarding the feather. “Good guess,” he said, and Sam could feel the glow of his pleasure. “Ready for the next?”

“Yes,” he answered, wondering what else the Archangel had in store for him. Something soft but heavy was put into his hands, and he turned it over in his palms, rubbing his calloused fingers over the surface. It was square, soft, lightly furred, and had stitching on its edges. “This is a pillow,” he stated with certainty. “Probably faux fur.”

Gabriel took it from him and lightly hit him over the top of the head. “Fake fur?” he asked, outrage and laughter ringing his words with gold, “me?”

“It’s probably some garish color of red too,” Sam shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Looking down at the bright red pillow, Gabriel decided that Sam was far too cocky and remembered far too much of their first meeting. “Shut up,” he said good-naturedly. “This next one is hard ”

Sam snorted. “Hit me,” he challenged Gabriel.

Gabriel took his hands again, laying a length of cloth in them, and closed Sam’s fingers around it. It was as soft as water, and just as cool, flowing through Sam’s hands, trailing expressively over the slope of his wrist, winding around his thumbs. “Silk,” Sam murmured, lifting the fabric up to his face. “Really, really expensive silk.”

He rubbed it against his cheek and Gabriel looked away. “You like silk then, Sammy?” he asked, and Sam nodded. He didn’t correct the nickname. Gabriel snapped his fingers and the outfit that Sam had so struggled to put on correctly was gone, replaced by a silk robe made of the same material he held in his hand.

Sam sighed. “What color is it?” he asked.

“Green,” Gabriel said. “I almost chose pink but decided that it wasn’t your color.”

Snorting out a laugh, Sam shook his head. “Angel Eye for the Straight Guy, huh?”

“Oh honey,” Gabriel said, affected. “Nothing I can do about your heinous wardrobe.”

“You’re insane,” Sam commented. “I just thought you should know.”

Nodding in agreement, Gabriel pulled over his next test item. “I’m certifiable, its why I lasted so many years as Loki.”

Sam thought about it for a second, before frowning. “How did you last so many years as Loki, anyway? I mean, you’re an Angel of the frickin’ Lord.”

Gabriel pressed his lips together and thought for a second. “Everyone knows how to hide, Sammy. I’m just better at it than most. I might not have been exiled like my brother, but I was as good as.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I would never be the prodigal son.”

Sam was quiet a second. “I understand.”

And he did, which was why Gabriel let the moment drop. “Ready for the next test?” He didn’t let Sam answer, just dropped the squirming ball of fur drop directly into his lap. Sam had to scramble to catch it before it took off again, and the small kitten immediately curled up against his chest, and began purring.

“A cat?” Sam asked, bewildered. “Why do you have a cat?”

“Her name is Hrist. She was a Valkyrie.”

“The cat?”

“No, the name ” Gabriel pushed his shoulder lightly and the cat meowed plaintively when her pillow shifted under her. “Ready for your next test?”

Sam put the cat to one side and she curled up next to his thigh, warm and purring loudly. “As long as we can take the cat home with us.”

“You want to steal my cat? Sammy I’m wounded ”

“Just give me the next test, Trickster,” Sam said laughing, and Gabriel silenced him with a kiss, similar than how Dean did with Castiel only hours before. The laughter died against Gabriel’s warm lips, and Sam sat there, absolutely still, not kissing back but neither pulling away. Gabriel took it as permission, and swiped his tongue across Sam’s, teasing the corner of his closed mouth with his lips, leaving gentle, light kisses against the skin there. With a sigh, Sam opened his mouth, allowing Gabriel access. Sam tasted like fire, the smokey after burned taste of wood, and a hint of orange, the juice from that morning.

Their tongues slid together and Sam pulled way, drawing a whine from Gabriel that was almost unconscious with sincerity. “What is this, Gabe?” he asked softly, so close that Gabriel could see his reflection in Sam’s unseeing eyes.

“Desire, Sam,” Gabriel answered, hushed. “It’s your next feeling test. I am giving you desire.”

“Gabe...” he murmured. “You don’t have to do this.”

Gabriel smiled. “Sure I do, Sammy. But more than that...I want to.” He pulled back, giving Sam space. “I can see that I was too early.” Gabriel smiled briefly. “I’ll try again later.” There was a finger snap before Sam could stop him and he found himself back on the couch at his house, the purring cat still sleeping beside him.

*

Sam was looking at the Earth. It was a massive ball of blue, white and green, large, beautiful and impossible. He turned to look at Lucifer who sat beside him on the lunar rock. “You realize that even if I still had sight, this would be impossible.”

Lucifer laughed and the sound crashed over Sam in a wave of love. “Good thing this is a dream, then.”

Shrugging, Sam gave him the point. He watched as the clouds moved under the atmosphere, as the Earth spun and tilted on its axis. The stars were bright but no sound pierced the bubble that Lucifer had them in. “Everything really is silent in space,” Sam mused out loud. “It’s so...peaceful here.”

Grinning, Lucifer nodded. “I like it here. It’s why I chose this place first.”

They sat together in silence, both watching the Earth. “What’s your real name?” Sam asked, as the minutes stretched on. “All the other Angels we met had their names ending in -iel or -ael.”

Lucifer’s smile faded slowly and he looked down at the pock marked soil of the moon. “Luciel,” he said quietly. “Changing my Name was another sword jab against my Father.”

Sam frowned. “Then...Zachariah?”

“Zachariel, and he too, uses the Changing of his Name as his own small rebellion.” Lucifer - Luciel - looked away, gazing out over the craters of the moon. “Names have power, Sam. Even I don’t know your True Name.”

“Uriel, he called it Samael,” Sam offered, but it had been so long that the name no longer made him shudder.

“Ah, yes. Samael, my favored few, the Destroyer.” Lucifer laughed and it sounded like nails grating down a chalkboard. “No, that’s not you, my Host.”

Sam followed his gaze, staring hard at the unmoving American flag. “Others fell? You took some with you?”

“Does not every general have lieutenants and commanders? I wielded an army, my Host. A powerful army of light and righteous anger.” His white lips turned up in a sardonic smirk. “No wars were ever won through anger alone. I was rash, foolish. I will not make that mistake again, my Host.” Lucifer’s smile turned inward for a minute. “Samael, Lasciel, Anduriel...my favored three. It makes sense that Uriel would call you thus, my Host.”

“Lasciel? Anduriel?” Sam told himself he was gathering information. He told himself he wasn’t interested.

“Lasciel, the Temptress. Anduriel, the Scourge.” Lucifer smiled. “They are still in Hell.” His smile hardened. “Where they belong.” Sam said nothing more and they watched silently for long hours that flew by like seconds. “The Dawn comes, my Host.”

Sunlight burst over the edge of the Earth, and Sam shielded his eyes from the suddenly bright light —

—And found himself awake, laying in bed, darkness pressing at his opened eyes.

*

“Keep chanting,” she demanded of the men around her. Thirteen men, bulky with muscle and shirtless, knelt around a large circle painted into the cement floor. They were glistening with sweat and oil, their mouths moving in tandem, their voices a low drone of languages.

Sumerian, for strength. Latin, for knowledge. Phoenician, for chance. Greek, for courage. And Enochian, for luck.

She sat in the ornate chair just behind her chanting minions, smiling as the body in the center of her circle twitched and moaned. It was also a man, and he was tall, as tall as the circle was wide, spread eagled and tied to hooks in the floor, keeping him from flailing and breaking the brick dust that closed the spell off. His hair was long, just a touch too long to be fashionable and he had hazel eyes. Rather he did, had they not been cut out and placed in a jar just outside his reach.

“My lady?” A woman asked from her left and she turned to gaze down at Anduriel. “Yes, my sister?”

“Luciel is on the move,” the Scourge reported breathlessly. “He has packed up his Host of demons and fled to Detroit, and has, at least for the moment, stopped there.”

“And the Winchester brothers?” she asked, white eyes shining with delight.

Anduriel glanced down at the notebook she held. “They have bought a house, my Lady. In Black Hills, South Dakota. But their house is protected, built and created by a psychic and a Priest.”

She waved a hand. “Houses can burn down. I’m not worried. What does our dear General have planned?”

“He doesn’t seem to have...anything...planned,” Anduriel responded. “He has given Samuel Winchester six months to give in, before he begins breaking rules. My lady?” She looked down at Anduriel. “Did he really forget about us in Hell?”

“Of course he did,” Samael spat from her other side as he walked into the room. “He got what he wanted, he’s free, out of the Cage that trapped us too. Now he wants his Host, and his World and we three who followed him out of Heaven were left behind.”

Anduriel looked away, back up at her. “My lady?” she implored.

“Stop sniveling, Anduriel,” Lasciel said, tiredly. “Luciel left us behind. This magick...it is not for his benefit but ours.” She looked at her two lieutenants, and offered them a smile. Lasciel, Lilith, the Temptress, all. “Don’t worry your pretty heads, my sweets. Samuel Winchester will give in, sooner or later. Then, we will make our move.”

The chanting droned on, and the hazel eyes that floated in blood and ichor were beginning to disintegrate. “Not long now,” Samael murmured.

“No,” Lasciel replied. “Not at all.”

*

Sam couldn’t keep track of everyone in the room. Chuck, he could feel Chuck was by the drinks, one hand on a beer, the other probably around Becky, if the chatter was anything to go by. Meryn was right next to her, and Sam tuned them out. Cas and Dean were on the couch, he could hear them talking in low tones, and Bobby was clomping in from the kitchen.

Gabriel had yet to show up. He’d been invited, he would have heard it had he been listening to Angel Radio, as Cas had told him that the easiest way to get his attention was to ask for him, like in prayer. But Gabriel hadn’t come to their ‘house warming’ party.

Hrist, the cat that Gabriel had given them, was meowing for handouts at Bobby’s feetk, twining her way around his ankles and tripping him up. Then, from somewhere in the house, Sam could hear Gabriel appear. He heard the familiar clatter of his feet and Gabriel bounced through the door from the hall. “Honey, I’m home,” he called and there were a number of catcalls and laughter.

Sam could feel Meryn immediately latch on to Gabriel, could feel them both like a psychic hum just under his skin. “Why, Ms. Jackson I’m surprised to see you here,” he could hear Gabriel say, if he listened intently enough. “When Gigantor told me his realtor was a psychic, he didn’t tell me it was you.”

Sam tried not to sulk that Gabriel wasn’t paying him any attention, because just as suddenly as Gabriel had spoken, he could hear Meryn whispering in his ear. And Gabriel was on his lap, straddling, hands on either side of his head. “Gabe,” Sam said dryly. “There’s a perfectly good chair right next to this one. That I’m in.”

“My way,” Gabriel said to him, very seriously, “is much more fun.”

Sam could feel the regard of every single person in the room and he stood abruptly, dislodging Gabriel. “I’m going to bed,” he said tiredly. “I...I’m tired.” He made his escape, made slow by counting steps under his breath until he reached the sanctuary of his silent room, and the dreams Luciel would give him.

*

“I wasn’t expecting you again, my Host. At least,” Luciel added, “not so early.” Sam shook his head and looked away, over the horizon where the ocean beat a staccato beat against the sandy shore. The sun was setting, painting the sky with orange and gold. “Are you all right, my Host?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Sam murmured, weary. “I’m not your Host. I won’t be your Host.” He smirked derisively. “And you don’t want me anyway, at least, not like this.” He gestured to his eyes.

Luciel - Lucifer - Light Bringer - Light of God - the only comfort in the world of darkness, it didn’t matter anymore. Sam turned to look at him and found that the body Lucifer had taken was so far deteriorated that his true Form was shining through. “Your six months are almost up, Sam,” he said, his voice hard. “Then we do this the hard way.”

“Nothing could be harder than this,” Sam whispered.

“Blindness?” Lucifer asked, full of scorn. “The true son of my Father could heal blindness, we were all given the power to do so. But me, my brothers, the eldest your Gabriel, we were all unable to restore your sight. Something, something is wrong, don’t you see, my Host?”

Sam snorted. “Of course I see, Luciel. But only in here.”

“I will find who is keeping your eyes from you, my Host,” Lucifer whispered, then he was gone, and only the ocean remained. Sam lay there, drifting in and out of his own dreams, letting the tide wash up and chase his bare ankles. He’d always loved the ocean, since Dean had taken him to Myrtle Beach when he was very young. Their father had been gone and it was just them, the sun and the water.

“I thought I might find you in here somewhere,” Gabriel said, dropping down next to him. “I can see why you got tired of your party when you have a view like this to fall asleep with.” He turned his head towards Sam’s and eyed him with some degree of displeasure. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, and Sam opened his mouth to tell him no but Gabriel talked right over him. “You’re being an epic douchebag.” He smiled pleasantly. “Just thought you ought to know.”

“I’m tired, Gabriel.” Sam tilted his head back to stare up at the sky, watching as the stars came out one, by one. Gabriel’s face filled his vision and Sam scowled. “What are you doing here anyway?”  
“I’m here to...” Gabriel touched his tongue to his upper lip and smiled. “I’m here to fulfill your random sex dream quota for the month.” With that, Gabriel kissed him, right there on the beach. “It’ll be so much better because you can see, but don’t worry, I’ll do this when you wake up too.”

The air around them shimmered with a finger snap and Sam found himself completely naked to Gabriel’s regard. “You What Gabe ” He flailed uselessly for a minute or two before Gabriel held his hands down, stretched up over his head.

“Just shut up and enjoy, Gigantor,” Gabriel murmured against the skin of his face.

He kissed down the center of Sam’s chest, letting his wrists go in favor of rubbing smooth palms over Sam’s nipples. Sam jerked and buried his fingers in the hot sand, levering up on his elbows to look down at the top of Gabriel’s head. It was just a dream anyway, and fighting in a dream was useless - like fighting yourself.

And Sam really wanted the blow job. It was still a surprise when Gabriel’s head dipped down and he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the head of Sam’s newly interested cock. Sam shouted, jerking up against Gabriel and Gabriel chuckled against Sam’s heated skin. “You sure about this, Sasquatch?”

“While I’m asleep maybe,” Sam grunted, twitching. “You wouldn’t be the first guy I’ve slept with.”

Gabriel grinned brilliantly and Sam realized with a remote pang that he would miss that grin when he woke up. “I’ll convince you in the morning,” Gabriel decided and swallowed Sam’s half hard cock in one motion.

Sam shouted, hips jerking, hardening so fast he could feel the blood loss in his head. His arms almost gave out when the pleasure spread, but Sam was determined to watch. He wouldn’t have another chance. Gabriel sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks and twining his tongue around Sam’s thick cock, cupping his balls in one hand.

He tasted like salt and maybe that was the ocean, swirling up around their legs as high tide came in. Sam’s hips were flexing each time Gabriel swallowed, and he ground his own aching erection into the sand for some sort of relief. He groaned as the sand formed a neat divot to fuck into and Sam cried out as the vibrations sang along his neglected nerve endings.

“Fuck, Gabriel, please,” he panted out, elbows slipping in the sand, eyes burning hot on the crown of Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel pulled off, snapping away his clothes to drape himself over Sam, rubbing their slick erections together. “How’s this for a touch test, Sam?” he grunted, grinding down hard and sliding his cock into the groove where Sam’s torso met his leg.

“Might need another test run,” Sam growled, pulling Gabriel in for another kiss. Gabriel kissed him deeply, letting Sam taste himself on his tongue, fucking his mouth and fucking his hips, until Sam grunted, eyes rolling and came in hot spurts between them.

It was just enough for Gabriel to reach his own orgasm, twitching and shuddering against the side of Sam’s neck. He’d bitten down, when he had come, and there was an angry purple bruise there. He avoided touching it, for now, in case he healed it on accident.

“Another test run?” he asked of Sam, grinning the grin of the sexually sated.

“I–,” Sam blinked and opened his eyes to darkness. “What?”

He was alone.

*

Dean was staring at him. He could feel it, a slight itch between his shoulder blades. “Okay,” Sam said finally. “What?”

“Do you have a...” Dean trailed off, clearing his throat. He rallied and tried again. “Cas and I...it doesn’t bother you, right?”

Sam contemplated telling Dean about his dream about Gabriel, but shook his head instead. “No dude, of course not.” Dean’s silence was skeptical and Sam finally put down the Braille learning book. “Why would it bother me?” he asked Dean, turning his head in the direction he knew Dean to be.

“Um, dude, I don’t know if you noticed but Cas is a guy.” Sam snorted and even though he couldn’t actually see Dean’s face, he knew that his brother was glaring. “I’m serious ” Dean said.

Sighing, Sam stood and counted the steps to the couch, dropping down beside Dean and knocking their shoulders together. “I’m well aware that Cas is a guy, thank you very much Mr. Obvious. Why would that bother me?”

He felt Dean shrug, rubbing their shoulders together. “I never brought men home. I thought it would...weird you out.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “Dude, Dean...really? I went to college.”

“And that means...what exactly?” Dean asked, bemused.

“It means I did a lot of experimenting before Jess.” Dean snorted out a laugh and threw his arm around Sam in a half hug. “So no, Cas being male does not bother me in the slightest.”

Dean grinned and ruffled Sam’s hair. “I just wanted to check.” There was a brief click and the TV came on, quietly, so Sam settled in against his brother’s side to listen to the news, or the documentary on horror that Dean would eventually pick. With Dean murmuring graphic descriptions in his ear, he felt like he could almost see again.

Even if a woman didn’t really give birth to a centaur in Minnesota.

*

“My Host, we don’t have much time.”

Sam opened his eyes and turned to look at Lucifer. His body was falling apart, and through the rends and folds of tattered flesh, his true form flickered an angry red. “Luciel?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. A quick glanced showed him the heavens, spinning stars and galaxies. “Luciel what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember when I spoke of my Favored Three, Anduriel, Lasciel and Samael?” Sam nodded once. “I believed they were in Hell. I was wrong.”

Sam went cold all over, and he took a quick step towards Lucifer. “I don’t understand.”

“There is much dark magic in the area around Butte, Montana. I had some of my demons follow through on an investigation. Things weren’t as they seemed. I found Anduriel there, and where Anduriel is, Samael and Lasciel aren’t far behind.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lucifer sighed heavily. “It is a specific spell. It’s a mix of voodoo and voodoun practices, where the practitioners use a human doll, someone with many of the same characteristics as their target. They then keep their doll alive, and create a psychic link so whatever they do to the doll is repeated on their intended target.” Hope blossomed in Sam’s chest so hard it hurt and nearly brought him to his knees. “Eventually, the damage becomes permanent and they kill the doll, severing the psychic link and leaving their target injured or perhaps even dead.”

“How am I supposed to tell Dean that?” Sam asked.

“Easily, my Host.” The Devil grinned and jabbed Sam in the forehead with two fingers. “You had a vision.”

The spinning heavens dissolved around him like grains of sand inside an hourglass, and pain exploded over his temples, pouring into his mind like fire. He could see them, three figures on a dais, one on a throne, two standing guard beside her. A white-hot circle, and a man without eyes, screaming in the center.

Sam jerked up, throwing off the covers and nearly falling out of bed. He swallowed, shaking, and his throat felt raw and over-used. He must have been screaming because there was pounding down the stairs as two people came flying into his room. Dean, he could tell, and Castiel. “Sammy?” Dean asked urgently. “You were screaming, what’s wrong?”

His useless eyes were leaking tears and he blinked them away, relishing the sting. “I had...I think it was a vision, Dean.”

“Fuck,” Dean swore, and pushed away from the bed. “About what?”

“I don’t...I think it was me. I think I know why I’m blind.” Everyone froze and Sam shifted when the tension rose to unbearable heights in the room. “There were three people, two women, one man, they were overseeing a circle, and it burned. There was a man in the middle, he looked like me. His eyes were in a jar.”

“Where?” Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t get a bead on it, it...hurt.”

He felt Dean’s hands tilt his head up and press a cloth to his nose. He hadn’t even realized his nose was bleeding. “I will call Meryn Jackson. She may be able to use her psychic powers to pinpoint where this dark magic is coming from,” Castiel said from the doorway.

“Pray,” Dean said. “We might need Gabriel in for this.”

So Sam closed his eyes and opened his mind, ignoring the hollow sound of laughter from Lucifer that echoed between his perfect ears.

*

Meryn unrolled a large map of the United States, tossing a purple bic lighter at Castiel. “Light those white candles for me? All five of them.” Sam sat in the chair across for her, feeling power raise with each white candle lit.

“I’m not a conventional psychic,” Meryn explained. “I come from many different schools of thought and even more religious backgrounds. It’s how I knew Loki, er, Gabriel. A friend of mine delved in too deep and summoned Loki. I knew he wasn’t a Trickster God the minute he appeared.” She placed something on the map. “I use my fire quartz as a diviner. It’s quartz crystal that grew out of rusted metal; I broke it off a railroad trestle when I was thirteen.”

Dean grunted. “How does it work?”

“It’s the same as any power, Mr. Winchester,” she said in her best school teacher voice. “If we can pinpoint a city, if you find me a map of the city, I can pinpoint a street.”

Sam really wished he could see what she was doing, because he could feel her power pressing in against him on all sides as she took his head, and exhaled once, loud enough to be noticeable.

Dean made a sound, and Castiel hushed him, as Meryn pulled the vision out of skin, through the palm of his hand, into her own fingertips. A second passed, then two, and she gasped. “Whoa. That was...fast. You must have some serious juice, Sam.”

Sam looked down. “I used to.”

Her hand squeezed his once before withdrawing. “Power itself is never evil. Only how it’s used.” She raised her voice a little and looked up, speaking in Dean’s direction. “Butte, Montana.”

“That’s not far,” Dean said. “That’s only a few hours away.”

“If by a few, you mean close to ten,” Meryn said, laughing. She blew out one of the candles and the tension decreased rapidly. “I bet whatever spell they’re casting needs to be close by. Got a map of Butte?”

“No,” Dean said. “But I can find one.”

“Good. Let me know when you do.” She slumped back in her chair. “So Sam,” she asked once Dean and Castiel had left on their errands, “want to explain away your power?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I was one of Azazel’s Children.” She jerked hard enough to upset the table and Sam could feel the blush burn his throat and cheeks. “You know him?”

“Yes. I know of them. But Azazel’s been dead for years...” She trailed off. “You two?”

“I raised Lucifer with my power. I gave it up after. Nothing is worth that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, turning away from him. “How about you?”

Meryn sighed. “I was trained by a Lakota Indian. He told me I was a forest spirit who had forgotten the way home. He and his Shaman broke a spell over me, and suddenly, bam I used to be a Touch Clairvoyant, but it’s not as bad now that I’ve gotten older. I’m still waiting for my Hogwarts Letter.”

Sam grinned, he couldn’t help it. “And what made you get into Real Estate?’

“I’m not really a real estate agent,” she answered, laughing. “But I built this house. All the baseboards and plywood are scribed with Nordic Runes for protection of the home. The Iron layer-work is blessed and was cooled with Holy Water. The cement basement was mixed with salt. The paint was mixed with sea salt, and each of the doorways has more Runes. This place is a psychic hotspot on any map.” She was smiling as she stood up. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

Gabriel chose then to appear, and Meryn didn’t jump. “He’s all yours, loverboy,” she told the Angel, and then her presence receded to the porch.

“You had a vision?” Gabriel asked without preamble. “About what, when and how?”

“About my blindness. It’s a spell.” He stood up, trying to find Gabriel. “I don’t know where you’re standing so–mph ” He wasn’t expecting the kiss, stood there dumbly for half a second before hauling Gabriel closer, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of the jeans he perpetually wore.

When Gabriel let him go, he pulled Sam’s head down to rest their foreheads together. “It wasn’t just a dream, you know,” Gabriel murmured, and Sam knew he wasn’t talking about the vision. “As soon as this is all over, we’re doing this for real.”

“Okay.” Sam just held Gabriel loosely in the circle of his arms, waiting for Dean to come back with a map, and Castiel to bring back Bobby.

The time for sitting still was over. This was war.

*

“How much longer until the spell is complete?” Anduriel asked, leaning her head against Lasciel’s knee.

“A day, perhaps two,” Lasciel answered absently, stroking her hand over Samael’s hair. “This kind of magic isn’t precise in its timing. The eyes will melt when the eyes will melt. Hopefully,” she added when Anduriel looked up, “it will be sooner rather than later.”

Samael looked up and Lasciel flicked him in the forehead with one finger. “Things are drawing to a close, aren’t they, my Lady.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, my dearest love,” she cooed, “things will be over with quite soon.”

“How can you tell?” It was petulant and Lasciel frowned down at Anduriel.

“Because,” Lasciel/Lilith answered. “Master’s on the move.”

*

Meryn had a street and a number almost as soon as she’d opened the map. She wore her fire quartz on a necklace, and when she’d taken it off and placed it by her left hand, it just rolled until it rested over a street. She blinked, then laughed.

“What?” Dean barked, running on low and stressed. “What’s funny?”

She grinned wider, shaking her head. “They’re making it easy on me. Which is probably a bad thing, still, the weather patterns aren’t bad, or demonic in nature, so they probably think they’re home free. Spell’s drawing to a close though.” She moved her pendulum and it had left a black mark over a part of the street.

“How far away is that?” asked Dean, and it was Bobby who answered.

“About eleven hours. If we take shifts, we can get there by tomorrow morning.”

Meryn rolled up the map, the sound startling everybody. “I’m sitting this out, guys,” she said quietly. “I’m useless in a fight and I can’t read minds or anything. I’ll hold the fort down here.”

They packed up the car in record time, Castiel and Bobby in the back seat, Sam in the front and Dean driving. Gabriel leaned and told Sam he’d meet them there, before snapping his fingers and fizzing out. Meryn stole all their cell phones and programed her number into it, making them promise to call her.

She gave Sam a hug, and saw them off, settling into the rocking chair on the porch, huddled under a blanket and prayed quietly to whoever might have been listening.

*

Sam drifted off in the car, the familiar purr of the engine under him, the sound of Metallica just under noise level. Bobby was snoring in the back, Castiel staring off into space, and Dean was humming under his breath, like he didn’t want to wake anyone. It was all so blessedly normal that not sleeping simply wasn’t an option.

He fell straight into a dream. Lucifer stood there, in a new body, this one strong, even though his eyes looked like bruises in the man’s handsome face. “My Host,” he said warmly and his voice was the same. “You’re moving, aren’t you?”

Sam nodded. “We found where they are. We’re going to them now.”

“I’m going to meet you there, my Host.” Lucifer promised. “I will smite they who dared harm you.”

“You still can’t have my body, Luciel,” he responded, looking away, over the tree line to the blue sky above. “It’s still mine. I’m still in it.”

Lucifer invaded his personal space, wrapping an arm about Sam’s waist. “Then I will use it once you’ve died, my Host. I don’t have long to wait.”

Sam woke up, feeling unsettled. The feeling increased as he realized that Castiel was staring at him. “You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Sam said, wincing when his voice cracked. “Just a weird dream.”

“You dream of Lucifer,” Castiel said, his voice a little awed. “He gave to you his true name.”

Sam closed his eyes and nodded once. “Luciel. Light of God.”

“Have you given him anything, Sam?” Castiel asked, the awe fading into desperation. “Tell me you haven’t.”

“I haven’t,” Sam protested. “I have given him nothing.”

Castiel let the matter drop, and Dean said nothing, only knocking his fist gently into Sam’s shoulder. It was enough to reassure him, before cold dread pooled in his stomach. He had agreed to let Lucifer show him things, he had said yes.

He hoped it didn’t count.

*

Lasciel looked up sharply and swore, almost disrupting the chanting with her vitriol. She knocked Anduriel and Samael aside and stood. “Master’s here,” she hissed. “He doesn’t know I...” She choked, her face turning red, and she flailed a little, trying to get her feet under her.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Lucifer mused as he stepped through the door. “The Favored Three. Anduriel, you’re looking well. I do enjoy this new form you have. And Samael, I’m glad you managed to escape Azazel’s clutches, the tyrant. And Lasciel. I heard you were supposed to be dead, but allowing one of your get to masquerade as Lilith? Tsk...” He let her fall. “I’m thoroughly disappointed in all three of you.

“Especially because you are attempting to kill, or at least seriously maim my Host ” His voice rose to a roar but the chanting wore on. “Now, my dearest Lasciel, what in Heaven’s Name were you thinking?”

She flinched, turning her face away. “I wasn’t about to give myself up for dead, Master. You allowed me to seduce Adam away from Eve, in their beautiful garden of death, but Luciel, you betrayed me first.”

“You are the Temptress, my dear,” Lucifer answered. “And now also, the Liar.” He tossed her aside and moved to break the circle. Nothing happened. He pushed his hand through the brick dust but it never moved under his fingers. “What?” he snapped. He whirled on the cowering Anduriel. “Report ”

“It’s magic, Master,” she whispered. “And we warded against you.”

Lucifer smiled, and the sight was terrible. “Then we will wait. Samuel will be here soon.” He settled back in Lasciel/Lilith’s chair. “And then we will see how this ends for you.”

Lasciel sat between Anduriel and Samael, glaring impotently from her place frozen to the floor. Sam would be there in less than four hours.

And then it would be time to use his Yes for good.

*

“Okay, look,” Sam said to the mostly silent car. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do with me. We’re...ha, going in blind and that means I don’t know the layout of anything. I’ll be a sitting duck.”

“So you’ll wait in the car until we break the spell,” Dean said, matter-of-fact, like he hadn’t just told Sam to do the most painful thing in the world.

Sam scowled. “I am not,” he said pointedly, “waiting in the car.”

“Perhaps,” Castiel said shortly, breaking in and diffusing the upcoming fight, “Gabriel would be your eyes.”

Sam twisted in the seat to give Castiel a look over his tinted glasses. “What?” he asked sharply, “how?”

“If he makes a Link with you, the way I did with Dean before I...” Castiel trailed off. “The way I did before I lost my Wings...he will be able to allow you to use his eyes for a short period of time.”

Sam immediately shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

Dean glanced at him, he could tell. “Why not?”

“Because that puts Gabriel in danger. And because he won’t want a psychic link with me anyway. I’ll figure it out.” Sam closed his eyes resolutely and ignored any of Dean’s attempts to renew the conversation.

Bobby slept on, and Sam refused to join him.

*

It was a giant warehouse, and Sam dialed Meryn. “We’re here,” he told her when she answered with a sleepy hello.

“They’re on the first floor, deep in. Be quiet, Sam. And be careful. I’ll await your call.” She disconnected without saying anything else.  
“First floor,” Sam reiterated. “Deep in.” He thought hard and Gabriel snapped in, making Sam’s ears pop. “Hi Gabe.”

Dean glared. “How the hell do you do that?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “He makes my ears pop.”

Gabriel snorted and pulled Sam in close. He let him do it, walking willingly into the circle of his arms. It was Gabriel who threaded their fingers together, and Dean snorted. “Not wanting a psychic link huh?” he teased and it was so normal that Sam wondered if it would all change if they got his eyes back.

“Let’s go, Boy Wonder,” Bobby grunted, and together the five of them moved in. Sam counted the steps as well as he was able, from the door they entered through to the very door of the Impala.

Just in case.

It wasn’t hard to find the Favored Three. The chanting was loud and didn’t echo. Dean lead them. Bobby brought up the rear. Gabriel took him by the hand again, counting under his own breath in time with Sam.

“Shit,” Dean said, and the chanting suddenly stopped. Pain exploded through Sam’s head and he fell, screaming to his knees. He couldn’t think past the blinding agony that pulsed with his heartbeat, under his cheeks and through his eyes.

Then, like only a month before, everything went coldly, painlessly, dark.

*

Dean glared at the man in the chair. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man laughed. “That’s right. You wouldn’t recognize me. I’m Luciel, Lucifer, Satan, the Devil; pick one.” He smiled, and his teeth were bloody. “I sent Samuel the vision that will save his life.”

“You?” Castiel and Dean chorused.

“Of course me He is my treasured Host. So, please, if one of your mortals would cross that line and break it, please. When Sam wakes up, and he will, he will have his sight again. The ritual didn’t complete.” Lucifer gestured to the three demons behind him. “These were my most favored servants. Anduriel, the Scourge of my destroyed Court. Samael, the Destroyer. And lastly, my dearest love, Lasciel; the Temptress.” Lucifer smiled slyly. “You would better know her as Lilith.”

Dean blinked. “Sam killed her to raise you out of the Cage.”  
Lucifer smiled. “Lasciel, please, go ahead. Speak.” He clenched a fist and she choked.

“I used a decoy. Sam hurt me, very badly when he killed Ruby. And the dental hygienist, it was her tainted blood that raised my Lord. But I am not dead. It is impossible to kill me.” She was smiling in triumph, until her body twitched, broke, and small flickers of light burned under her skin.

“Not impossible,” murmured Lucifer. “Are either of you going to be next?” he inquired of Anduriel and Samael.

“No,” Anduriel said. “I never agreed with her stupid plan. Please, by all means, break the circle.”

Bobby glanced at Dean before nudging a hole through the brick dust. Nothing obvious seemed to happen but the man in the middle slumped in his bonds. He didn’t move again.

But Sam did. He covered his eyes, shaking his head, curling up onto his knees. “Sam ” barked Dean. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’m okay.” Gabriel knelt at his side, pulling his hands away from his bleeding eyes. Gabriel lightly touched him on the forehead.

The blood was gone and when Sam looked up and met Dean’s eyes, he could see.

*

“So now we’re down to this, my Host,” Lucifer called over to him. “You told me yes in your dreams. Now you must say it aloud.”

Sam frowned, dragging his eyes from his brothers. “What? I didn’t say y–,” Gabriel’s hand tightened on his shoulder alarmingly and he stopped. “No. I’m saying no.”

Lucifer’s face darkened like a thunder cloud. “You are my Host ” he shouted. “I gave you beauty I gave you wonder I gave you your eyes ”

“You cheated.” It was almost comical, how everyone whirled to see who had spoken. Castiel was beside Dean, Bobby by the dead man in the circle, and Gabriel together with Sam. So when Chuck stepped out behind the door, dressed in a white button down, everyone was a little shocked.

Except for Lucifer. He collapsed to his knees, sliding out of the throne. “Father,” he whispered, and Dean’s amulet burned to life.

Chuck turned to them and gave them all a brief smile. “Sorry guys. I’ll explain later.” White light burned with a high pitch shriek.

Meryn screamed when they all appeared on the porch beside her.

In all the confusion, they never saw Sam slip away inside. He didn’t need to count.

*

“Sasquatch,” Gabriel said warmly. “How’s the eyes?”

Sam didn’t look up from the window. “Was it all because I was blind?” he asked instead of answering.

Gabriel sighed quietly. “No.”

He paused, thinking, before he turned away from the window he was staring out of and pulled Gabriel in, leaning back against the wall so he could kiss Gabriel without stooping down too low. He grinned, quick and dirty. “Good.”

Gabriel kissed him again. “So it wasn’t just ‘cause you were blind then?” he asked back, amber eyes glowing.

Sam snorted. “Might let you blindfold me, y’know for more testing purposes.”

“Let’s go,” Gabriel growled. Dean got to the room in time for the finger snap.

He left the light on for them.

*End


End file.
